A Visitor and a Piece of Paper
by Aleks13
Summary: Willard has a vistor... (The story might be kind of weird...) Please tell me if a second chapter would be a good idea or a bad idea. !NOT a romance! Chapter 2 added but incomplete since I probably won't finish it...
1. Default Chapter

Note - I do not own Willard. I have nothing to do with Crispin Glover or the original movie cast. (Even though that would be fun :P )   


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Willard opened his eyes, the sweat on his forehead and arms was now cold. It made him shiver. He took the blanket from the small cot and wrapped himself in it. Rocking back and forth gently, it all came back to him. First the screams of thousands being burned, burned by himself. _Willard you are a murder_ he thought. Again over and over in his head the screams came, hunting him...killing him.   
_Mr. Martin deserved it, he killed my family...my life._ Just then the door clicked, the handle moved slightly then it opened. A worker by the name of Jim came in. He was holding a tray of food.   
"Hello Willard", Jim said with his usual smile. "How are you this wonderful day?" the smile still plastered on his face. Willard gave his cold emotionless stare. "Well here's you food, oh and don't worry I'll make sure that there are no more cheese jokes." he added. Then before leaving the room Jim turned around and smiled "I will be bringing you a special visitor tomorrow," with that he left and locked the door. _A visitor..._

**Soft green eyes stared at him, so beautiful... "Help! Help me!" the words slipped from his mouth. Grabbing the iron bars he shock them violently. Tears and sweat ran down his damp face.**

Willard woke up. He laid in the bed for a while breathing heavily. He got out of the small bed, running his fingers through his hair. Then a click came from the door. The handle turned and Jim's lively face came into view but he was not alone... "Hello Willard!" He said with a load of happiness. "Here is the visitor I was talking about," with that Willard turned his head to put the other person into perspective.   
_A girl. Not a child and not an adult. Maybe around 13 or 14 _he thought. "Willard I'd like you to meet my daughter Sandy." Jim's emotion filled words were drowned out silently by the girl's cold face.   
"She is doing a project about you for school so I thought she might want to meet you." "Go ahead Sandy say hello to Willard." he pressured. "Hello, Mr.Stiles," Sandy's words were forced out of her, reluctantly. "I'll be right by the door if you need me pumpkin!" giggled Jim.Willard edged himself farther into the corner of his bed. Sandy stood where she was. "I heard that you don't talk much, that's ok I don't either," she said. "We don't need to talk about anything if you don't want to," Sandy added. Willard remembered his life before all this. A tear formed in his eye and fell down his pale face.   
Without thinking Sandy walked over to Willard and moved her hand to his face. "Ah, I..I" he stuttered. Willard felt warmth. Just then it ended. "Don't touch him!" a strong voice said. The man ran in and looked at Sandy, "No funny business little lady, this here is a bad man." Jim came in and hurried her out. "As for you rat boy I'm watching you." as he said that he walked out and shut the door. Sandy felt tears form in her eyes she couldn't hold them in. "Shhh, it's ok pumpkin," Jim's soothing voice said.   
When they were in Jim's car Sandy blurted out the tears coming back "Why did they do that! Willard didn't do anything!" She was full of rage now. "He was sad dad! Why is he in that stupid place?"   
"Honey they told me he was trying to grab you." Jim replied. "He wasn't." Sandy whispered. The rest of the ride was silent. When they got back home Sandy went up to her dad and hugged him. "I'm sorry," she said under her breath. "Mr.Stiles was going to say something, I don't know what it was. He was cut off by that idiot man." Sandy spoke these words as she drew away from her father. Her father had lost his happy face. "Don't worry Sandy, they won't hurt him anymore," Jim said gently.   
Sandy buried her face in the feather filled pillow. She had to do something... Sandy got up and walked downstairs. She went up to her dad who was watching some cooking show. "Hey dad, um I was wondering if I could take a look at Mr.Stiles' file?" Sandy asked in her gentlest voice. "Um...I guess so pumpkin," Jim replied. "I'll pick it up tomorrow."   
When Sandy got back from school she waited for her dad. Then the door unlocked and her dad walked in letting a cold gust of wind flow in. It sent a chill up Sandy's back.   
"Sandy I'm home!" Jim cooed. "Hi dad!" she replied. "I got Willard's file for you," Jim said. He handed Sandy a piece of paper. She looked at it then went up to her room. This is what the file said - 

** Name: **Willard Stiles   
** Patient Number: **9-11   
** Date Of Birth:** March, 23, 1976   
** Hair Colour:** Black   
** Eye Colour: **Blue   
** Problem: **Possibly insane   
** History: **Grew up in a small neighborhood. Lived with sickly mother who passed away. House was infested with rats.   
** Notes: **Hasn't talked since he came. Does not eat a lot. Does not appear to be hostile. Probably has a gentle nature. Seemed to talk to himself the   
night he was found in his house before he was caught. 

Sandy thought to herself _House infested with rats..._   



	2. Chapter 2 Incomplete

Chapter two. I hope you guys like it. 

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Back at Willard's cell he sleeps. He felt warm fur against his hand. A small nose nudging him. "Socrates?" he whispered. Willard awakens. _It was just a dream..._   
_ Is life worth it all? _Willard sees a sharp piece of metal on the tiny bed. He edges closer. Willard places the palm of his hand over the rusty metal. He pulls his hand back quickly.   
Red blood drips from the pale palm. Just then the door opens. _Caught._ "Hello Willard, ... Oh my god! What have you done!" Jim shouts after eyeing the blood stained sheets.   
"Why Willard? Why?" Jim asks as he steps toward Willard. Jim tries to look at Willard's hand but to no use as the thin man jerks back. Jim runs out and calls some one to help.   
A women steps in with a first aid kit. Her hair, greying with age is tied back in a bun. She grabs Willard's hand. "If you don't listen to me, the consenquences will be... painful,"   
she threateneds. Willard gives up. The women takes out a towel and wipes his palm then she pours some achohol on his hand. Screams of pain escape his dry throught.   
Sandy felt the thoughts trickle in. Se was drawn to Willard because of curiosity. His pale appreance and silent ways poked at Sandy to find was was underneath the sorowful exterior. She felt sorry for him, trying to think of ways to help. "_Poor guy, I hope that there is some way that I can help him," _she thought.   
Willard thought of Cathryn, that girl reminded him of the women he used to know. She was one of the few who cared. His mother, well you could say she did in her own special way. Socrates cared. 


End file.
